


An Irony of Fate

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-05 10:23:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3116576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Athos and d'Artagnan find out they're related.<br/>More Athos in this than d'Art but it came to me last night and so I penned it out.<br/>Now I did look but if Athos's parents names were given or d'Art's mother in the original Dumas novel I couldn't find it (or else I didn't look good enough). So for my story they are simply names of fiction.</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

*Musketeer garrison*

Observing Athos and d’Artagnan sparring, Porthos nudged Aramis in the side. Both Musketeers were perched on top of one of the wooden benchs in the courtyard. 

Aramis had been cutting a slice of apple with his dagger and nearly sliced his finger off when Porthos elbowed him in the side. “Do be careful, Porthos,” Aramis chewed on his apple. “You nearly made me lose an important part of my anatomy.”

Looking down at Aramis's crotch, Porthos grunted. "Wasn't anywhere near that area." When Aramis rolled his eyes, Porthos grinned.

“Well why did you poke me?”

“Don’t it seem like at times d’Artagnan reminds ya of somebody else?”

“Not particularly,” Aramis popped another slice of apple into his mouth as he studied the two men battling it out in front of them. Tilting his head sideways, he watched both his friends at work. “Now that you mention it, d’Artagnan does sort of remind me of you, Porthos.”

“That right tears it!” Porthos stood up and glared at Aramis. “I’m right serious here and you’re jolly well being cute!”

“Okay, okay, no need to be so touchy about it,” Aramis patted his large friend on the back to calm him down. “You do have a point though. There’s something terribly familiar when d’Artagnan scrunches up his face in concentration as he’s doing now.”

“Yeah, I noticed that first thing,” Porthos agreed. “Just like Athos.”

“Mmmmm, the same arrogant look the boy gets on his face when he figures he’s right about something or other,” Aramis added fingering his mustache. “That is rather like Athos as well.”

“Same jut of the chin when our whelp's stubborness overcomes his common sense at times,” Porthos said. “Our pup can act the aristocrat just as much as Athos.”

“D’Artagnan did mention he was raised to be a gentleman,” Aramis remarked. “Wonder why that was?” He shared a look with Porthos. “I mean, manners oui, I can understand that, but d’Artagnan was taught to read, write, handle ledgers and his manners are nearly impeccable when we’re at court.”

“What are you thinking?” Porthos propped a booted foot up next to where Aramis sat on the bench.

“I’m not exactly sure,” Aramis stood up then, putting his hat on, “but I have a few questions for Captain Treville.”

“Mind if I come along?” Porthos asked and even if Aramis had said no, he still was tagging along.

“Be my guest, mon ami.”

++++

*Captain Treville’s office*

“Gentlemen, what’s wrong this time?” If Treville didn’t request his men and they came voluntarily to see him, it usually spelled trouble for him.

“You knew d’Artagnan’s parents when you grew up in Gascony, did you not, sir?” Aramis crossed his arms as he stood in front of the captain’s desk.

“Oui, it’s not a state secret.”

“Some things don’t add up the way d’Artagnan was raised,” Porthos saw Treville pale slightly at his words. “I’ve been picking up and noticing things here and there and brought it up to Aramis just now.”

“Eh bien, I believe you’re both seeing things that do not exist apparently.” Treville went back to his work, silently dismissing his men without a word. Not hearing the pounding of boots leading out his door, Treville lifted his head, arched a brow and sighed. “Why are you both still here?”

“What do you know, sir?” Aramis demanded, clearly Treville was hiding something that had to do with d’Artagnan’s childhood.

“Whatever I *do* know it is none of your damn business!” shooting both of them a sharp look he added. “Either of you!” Treville snapped.

“If it has to do with the two of em' down there,” Porthos growled, “I think it does.”

“I made a promise to Athos’s mother and I mean to keep it,” Treville’s voice lowered. He hadn’t even meant to reveal that much but the words escaped him in the heat of the moment. “Now dismissed!”

Porthos and Aramis weren’t satisfied, not by a long shot, but didn’t press their captain further as they both trudged away.

++++

*Back down in the courtyard*

Laughing, both d’Artagnan and Athos were tired and sweaty. It had been a good session as they collapsed on the bench. 

Serge had rushed out to serve them something cold to drink, as it was hot out today and he figured their throats would be parched.

“My thanks, Serge,” d’Artagnan grinned at the older man and raised his mug in the air.

“Athos, you’re losing your touch,” Serge chuckled. “D’Artagnan nearly had you at one point.”

“Never going to happen,” Athos exchanged an amused look with the boy.

“Who says?” d’Artagnan took a sip of his lager, his eyes were still laughing at Athos over the rim of his mug.

“I do,” Athos smirked, playfully reaching over to ruffle the youngster’s sweat slicked hair.

It was this scene that Arams and Porthos came upon that had both men stopping in their tracks.

“Mon dieu!” Aramis couldn’t believe it hadn’t become apparent to any of them earlier on in their acquaintance with the young Gascon.

“If they ain’t related somehow I’ll eat my hat,” Porthos remarked, hearing Aramis’s gentle huff of laughter.

“Don’t do that, mon ami, it will only give you a bad case of indigestion.”

“What we gonna do, Aramis?”

“Treville’s being tight lipped,” Aramis reminded the other man. “This has to be handled delicately.”

“Delicacy be damned!” Porthos stomped away toward where Athos and d’Artagnan were, disregarding the moans coming from Aramis.

Seeing Porthos’s approach, d’Artagnan grinned up at the mountain of a man. “I almost had Athos that time, Porthos. Did you see us?”

“You’ll get him one day, boyo,” Porthos clapped a hand on the child’s shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“Is everything all right,” Athos questioned, noticing Aramis lingering behind the other man.

“Athos, I think you need to have a heart to heart talk with the captain.” Porthos was rarely serious but today was an exception and it showed on his face.

“Is something going on that requires my attention then?” Athos was concerned about the way his two friends were behaving and wondered how serious things could be.

Drawing Athos aside, while Aramis entertained d’Artagnan with tales of his latest female conquest, Porthos filled Athos in on what he and Aramis felt. Plus how Treville was being evasive on the whole matter to boot.

Blinking up at Porthos, Athos looked at his friend in amazement. “I agree with Treville. It’s ridiculous in the extreme! Wouldn’t you think I’d know if I had another little brother?” As he posed this question, Athos watched d’Artagnan laugh over something Aramis had just told their young one. “D’Artagnan’s already a brother of my heart. Blood ties are not needed between us.”

“Hell, I know that, but what if it were true, Athos?” Porthos wouldn’t let this go. “Come on! You’ve gotta admit there are some peculiar tendencies you both share. Even Aramis admitted that much. Sometimes you and d’Artagnan are so much alike it’s down right scary.”

Staring into space, Athos frowned. Words came back to haunt him as he remembered saving d’Artagnan from Labarge when the youngster went to ring a confession out of the criminal. “We’re more alike than you know,” Athos whispered softly.

“Eh?” Porthos’s concern went up another notch as he heard what Athos’s said and then saw how white he became afterwards.

“Something I told d’Artagnan before he won his commission.” Glancing upward toward the balcony where the captain always stood watch, Athos winced. “Treville will think his lieutenant has lost his mind.”

“Yeah, well the captain was right agitated at our questions for em’.”

“This is a mistake,” Athos talked to himself, but he ended taking the stairs two at a time for an unexpected trip to see Treville.

++++

“Mon dieu!” Treville pushed aside his reports. “Now they’ve sent you up here!”

“Is there any truth to the matter, sir?” Athos watched as several emotions seemed to cross the captain’s face at once.

“Sit down, son.” Treville motioned to the empty chair beside his desk. Pulling open a drawer, he removed a flask from his desk. "I think you'll need this more than I do." Treville then produced to small glasses and began to fill them with brandy. Handing one to Athos, he settled back in his chair.

“A long time ago I made a promise to your mother, Gabrielle and I’ve kept it up until this moment.” Treville kept his eyes steady on the man he considered the rock of the garrison. “Your parents marriage was not a stable affair to say the least,” he commented rather dryly.

“Oui, that much I remember as well,” Athos admitted. “They argued constantly without regard for my or Thomas’s presence.”

“When your father went away on one of his hunting expeditions, Gabrielle unexpectedly met a visiting duke that was on his way to see the king.”

Holding up a hand, Athos closed his eyes briefly. “Don't tell me they had an affair?"

“For the entire month Reynard was on his hunt,” Treville revealed with a weary sigh as he sat back. Feeling like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders after these many years, it was a relief.

“Do you know who this duke was?”

“Non,” Treville wished he had. He would have tracked the man down later. “Gabrielle never said and I didn’t press her for an answer.”

“I assume there were repercussions from my mother’s liaison with this individual?”

“When she fell pregnant, Gabrielle knew that people would talk. Her neighbors all knew Reynard had been away. So she trumped up a story about needing to go stay with her mother, saying that the woman was ill and asking for her.”

“I remember annoying my mother about going with her but she told me I would be bored with nothing to do.”

“And if you remember, the year before Gabrielle had given birth to Thomas. So when she left, Gabrielle took the baby with her because she wouldn’t trust Thomas to anyone else’s care but her own.”

“Where did my mother go to then?”

“Gabrielle went in secret to a little convent on the outskirts of Gascony.”

This revelation dropped like a stone on top of Athos’s head. He stood up so abruptly that he knocked over his chair with a loud thud. “Mon dieu!” 

He paled to milk white so much so that Treville worried Athos would pass out from the shock. But in true style, Athos composed himself and sat back down.

“And how did you come into the picture, sir?” Athos struggled to ask, his calm demeanor was steadily going out the window as he clasped his hands together preventing them from shaking.

“I’ve always been a close friend of your family, Athos. Gabrielle wrote to me asking for me to see her at the convent,” at this point Treville could hardly meet Athos’s eyes. “When I arrived there, Gabrielle explained everything to me. She knew keeping the baby was an impossibility and entrusted me with the petite garcon’s care.”

“Petite garcon?” Athos wished he could drown himself in a good bottle of wine right now. Perhaps later he would indulge. Right now he needed his wits about him.

“An adorable, dark haired child,” Treville smiled in fond memory of that time he held the baby in his arms. “Needless to say I had to find the boy a good home,” he shrugged. “I, of course, hailing from Gascony visited my old friend Alexandre d’Artagnan and his wife, Sybil. They were a childless couple and I had a newborn baby on my hands with no parents,” Treville smiled ruefully. “It seemed a good fit.”

“You let them raise my brother?” Athos growled. “Knowing after I lost Thomas, you still kept quiet about my other sibling?”

“I couldn’t uproot the youngster from the only home he had ever known, now could I?” Treville would not let Athos make him feel guilty over decisions of the past.

“You could have told me,” hurt was in Athos’s voice as tears began to fill his sad, blue eyes.

“It’s an irony of fate that brought d’Artagnan to you, of all people, and under the worst of circumstances.”

“He could have been raised as a Le Fere with all the privileges that go with it,” Athos hissed.

What Treville really heard were the unspoken words that Athos would never reveal about being alone and how d’Artagnan would have filled the void after Thomas had died. “If I had to compare your lives, Athos, I think d’Artagnan came out the real winner.” Treville hunched forward, hands splayed on his desk top. He wondered how Athos would handle things now that the cat was out of the proverbial bag.

“This explains the feelings I’ve had ever since I met d’Artagnan,” Athos ran a hand down the back of his neck, “but I always shook them off as flights of fancy.” Stabbing his captain with a fierce look he asked, “How do I explain all of this to him?”

“You won’t have too,” announced a wobbly voice that came from the open doorway.

Standing slowly, Athos turned around zeroing in on d’Artagnan’s tear streaked face. Not trusting his voice, Athos couldn’t utter a single word as he approached the boy. The closer he drew to the lad he noted Aramis and Porthos standing behind d’Artagnan. At least later Athos wouldn’t have to repeat this story all over again for their benefit.

Inching his way toward Athos, d’Artagnan couldn’t stop the tears that fell. He actually had a half brother and low and behold it turned out to be Athos. Not in his wildest dreams could he have envisioned this. “Athos,” he spoke softly.

Cupping d’Artagnan’s cheek in one of his hands, Athos folded the pup into his arms. Resting his own chin on top of the boy’s shoulder. “There are none so blind as those who will not see,” Athos murmured sorrowfully as he pulled back to stare into d’Artagnan’s eyes. “Fits me to a *T*.”

“You’re my half brother!” d’Artagnan said in astonishment. “I can’t believe it!” He beamed and hugged Athos tightly.

“There’s no *half* about it... *brother*,” Athos grinned, ruffling the boy's hair until d’Artagnan batted his hands away.

“Eh, whelp,” Porthos grunted. “Only thing’s that changed is that now Athos will expect you to toe the line even more now that he’s really your big brother.”

Laughing, eyes shining bright with joy, d’Artagnan scoffed loudly. “In Athos’s dreams!”


	2. The Sequel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is for AZGirl & Darian_MacGyver who asked for a sequel.  
> Hope you like it.
> 
> ++++

After the shock wore off, d’Artagnan and Athos still hadn’t let go of each other, savoring the moment of true brotherhood. They now shared a bond that would never and *could never* be broken. Even Treville was happy about the unexpected outcome, not having meant for any of this past history to ever come to light. “What say you gents to going to the Boar’s Head Tavern for a nice dinner, compliments of myself?”

“Our thanks, Captain,” Athos dipped his head as he one-armed hugged d’Artagnan to his side. His face nearly split in half from the huge grin he wore. In fact, since Athos rarely smiled to begin with, this act astonished his other two brothers-in-arms who looked on in astonishment.

“Come, little brother,” Athos beamed. “Let’s fill our stomachs this night in celebration.”

Ducking his head shyly, d’Artagnan’s eyes still watered. He tried wiping them off with his sleeve before Athos saw them but his hand was stopped by a light grip on his wrist. When d’Artagnan glanced up it was to see Athos’s thumb coming up to wipe the tears off his face. “Mmmm, not a baby,” d’Artagnan mumbled, “can do it myself.”

“Indulge me,” Athos spoke softly for only the boy to hear.

Rolling his eyes, d’Artagnan let Athos have his way until his face was completely dry.

“Now that we’re done with *most* of the bonding,” Porthos interrupted gruffly, “can we go eat now?”

Laughter trailed out the door following Treville.

++++

*Boar’s Head Tavern*

A delightful repast had been enjoyed along with a goodly amount of libation which had been passed around the table. D’Artagnan and Athos kept grinning at each other like idiots, they were so happy to find out that they truly belonged to one another as siblings. Finding out that the same blood flowed through their veins made it something precious for both men.

“All this brotherly love is tiring,”Porthos slurred, nearly sliding from his chair, but Aramis saved the larger man from such a fate as he deftly caught Porthos with both arms and shoved him back upright.

“You usually hold your drink better than that, Porthos,” Aramis chided with a hearty laugh, sliding an amused look over at d’Artagnan and Athos. 

Porthos just shot Aramis a mean look and left it at that.

“Captain Treville, did my parents,” d’Artagnan pulled a face slightly, “I meant the ones that raised me,” he didn’t continue as he felt Athos place a heavy hand on his shoulder. 

“Alexandre and Sybil d’Artagnan were still your real parents, d’Artagnan, never lose sight of that fact,” Athos reminded the boy.

“What were you about to ask, d’Artagnan,” Treville drummed his fingers on the table.

“Did they know that Gabrielle de la Fere gave birth to me?”

“Non, I couldn’t risk divulging such information for fear of reprisals later on.”

Looking over at Athos, d’Artagnan smiled sadly. “Now that I know, I wished I could have met your maman,” he ducked his head suddenly not being able to look Athos in the eye, “I mean our maman.”

Athos’s lips twisted wryly. “Our captain had told me earlier that he thought you were the one that came out the real winner with the family that raised you and I believe him to be correct.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow,” d’Artagnan appeared confused over his brother’s words.

“My parent’s marriage was far from being a love match, d’Artagnan.” 

Nodding his head in understanding, d’Artagnan’s gaze held nothing but sympathy for Athos. “Arranged marriages are quite common within the nobility.”

“They snipped and sniped at each other so much,” Athos sighed deeply, “there wasn’t much love leftover for either Thomas or I.” He snorted, “They hardly made time to be a mother or father to either one of us.”

“Is that how you and Thomas became so close?” Aramis couldn’t help but ask.

“Oui,” Athos took a sip of his drink. “You might say I raised Thomas myself,” he stared into his lager for a brief moment before looking at the men all around him. “I think that’s why Anne’s betrayal and murder of him hurt me so deeply.” Feeling a warm hand on top of his own, Athos grabbed it and gave it a gentle squeeze. His heart was full of love for this youngster more than ever now as he looked into the warm, brown eyes of his little brother.

“So then, d’Artagnan here didn’t miss out on all that aristocratic motherin’ then,” Porthos grunted, downing a glass of wine in one go.

Smiling into his own glass, Athos nodded. “Without having known her I feel assured that Sybil d’Artagnan loved her son with everything she had in her. It’s a testament to how well our pup turned out,” he finished his drink and put it down as he looked at the child. “When we were just petite garcons, Thomas and I were mainly raised by the hired retainers. Motherhood, as I’ve said earlier, was not Gabrielle de la Fere’s forte.”

Standing up, Treville reached for his cloak and hat. “I’ve got an early morning session with King Louis and I need to be at my best, gents.” Smiling at the picture d’Artagnan and Athos made sitting side by side, he chuckled. “Louis is going to eat this up after I tell him about it.”

“Must you?” Athos asked dryly, mock pain written on his features at the thought of the king making a big production out of this.

“I really must,” Treville shot his lieutenant an odd look. “Why would you want to hide your relationship? Especially from King Louis?”

“Just paints an even bigger target on d’Artagnan’s back than there already is,” Athos frowned. “He gets into enough trouble.”

“Hey! I’m right here!” d’Artagnan complained, earning snorts of laughter from his other two brothers of the heart. “I’m a Musketeer myself and have proven it by beating LaBarge!” he scowled at the memory of the criminal having burned down his family farm. He hadn’t the heart to go back as yet to see the destruction the odious man had created behind him.

“All right, pup, stand down,” Athos cuffed the youth lightly on the back of his head.

“What of Milady?” Aramis posed the question he knew was never far from Athos’s mind.

“I banished her,” Athos retorted in a hushed tone.

“And you believe she actually left Paris?” Porthos shook his head at his friend’s naivety.

“If she were ever to find out about d’Artagnan and try to take him away from me,” Athos seethed, his fingers curling into fists. “I would kill her without remorse.”

“I feel quite superfetatoir at the moment,” d’Artagnan moaned, glancing at Aramis with a shrug. “Is this how it’s going to be from now on?”

Hugging the young man, Aramis grinned. “Athos always worries about you,” he waved his hand airily. “This really isn’t any different than before.”

“Hey!” Porthos butted in. “Maybe we should try to find this duke who fathered our boyo.”

“I don’t need to know, Porthos.”

“Why not?” Porthos growled, thinking of his own past not knowing who his father was either.

“As far as I’m concerned, Alexandre d’Artagnan was my pere’,” d’Artagnan’s stubborn chin jutted out, “ and that’s good enough for me.”

“There’s that *chin* again,” Porthos chuckled and shared a long look with Aramis who smiled in turn.

“I doubt you’ll change d’Artagnan’s mind, Porthos,” Treville winked at the boy. “Now I really must be off.”

“Our thanks again for the dinner, sir,” Athos raised his glass to the man.

“Least I could do,” with a wave at his men, Treville left to settle the bill before leaving the tavern.

“I do hope the king won’t get it into his head to parade us around to all and sundry as true brothers now,” d’Artagnan muttered, his spirits slightly dampened at the thought, as he found himself silently agreeing with Athos.

“This will be just a flash in the pan, d’Artagnan,” Aramis slapped the lad on the back. “Here today and gone tomorrow, mon ami.”

“From your mouth to God’s ear,” Athos murmured quietly.

Aramis then crossed himself which made everyone at the table laugh.

“So, petite de la Fere,” Porthos teased, “how’s it feel?”

Placing his mug of lager down, d’Artagnan’s eyes turned misty. “Like I’ve found a part of me that I never knew was lost.”

“But,” Athos reminded everyone, holding his finger in the air, “d’Artagnan and I are only two parts of a whole.” He smiled gratefully at his two other friends. “It takes Aramis and Porthos to complete our family unit.”

“Porthos?” d’Artagnan asked in concern, “are you crying?”

“This is gettin’ right emotional now,” Porthos sniffed and grabbed at the handkerchief Aramis threw at him.

“Athos, perhaps you better stop waxing eloquent before our gentle giant here floods the establishment,” Aramis quipped while Porthos glared daggers back at him.

“And perhaps we should all turn in for the evening,” Athos announced as he stood up.

“I should be getting back to the barracks anyway,” d’Artagnan admitted, knowing the hour grew late.

“I’ll go with you,” Athos said, earning him a surprised look from the young man.

“I do not need a bodyguard just to walk over there,” d’Artagnan was puzzled over Athos’s offer, then guessed that perhaps he just wanted to linger in his company a little while longer. Feeling the weight of Athos’s hand on his shoulder, d’Artagnan waited for the other man to say what was on his mind.

“No, I’m not going in that capacity,” Athos laughed. “Thought perhaps you’d need a hand moving your belongings though.”

“I must have missed something in our conversation. What the deuce are you talking about?”

“Little brother,” Athos grinned, delighting in those words and knowing how true they really were, “you’re coming home with me.”


	3. The final chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Sigmund who wanted more on the Duke. Also EBM and AZGirl had interest in a little bit more as well.
> 
> Anything in here relating to the Duke is true but I’ve played with a few things and if there is a historian out there, please be kind. LOL!
> 
> ++++

*Next Day, Porthos’s Apartment*

Knowing he was off the roster for the next few days, Porthos decided to do a little detective work despite d’Artagnan not wanting to discover who his true father really was. His own past still haunted him in the dark of night, not knowing who had fathered him either. Porthos was just a petite garcon when his mother passed away so he never had a chance to question her about it.

Stopping to see Serge for some supplies, Porthos went along to the stables afterward to saddle Roulette. He then set off before his brothers realized he was gone and heading for La Fere.

++++

*La Fere lands*

When Porthos eventually arrived at his destination, it brought back painful memories of his injury where they all had to hole up here at Athos’s place. Now all that was left of the estate was a burned out husk. 

Riding past the grounds, Porthos spied a few other homes nearby and decided to call upon some of Athos’s neighbors. The first one he tried came to nothing but it was the second estate where he struck gold.

Tying Roulette to a tree, Porthos walked up to a gentlemen that was taking care of some rather beautiful horses. “Excusez-moi, Monsieur,” Porthos said. “My name is Porthos and I hope you don’t mind a few questions.”

Making sure his horses wouldn’t run off, the man gave orders to a youngster that was with him. So he left the animals in the boy’s care. Turning to Porthos he grinned and held out his hand. “The name’s Abelard,” his eyes twinkled. “I do not mind answering questions." Abelard noticed how large the other man was and sized him up and down.

“This might sound a bit odd,” Porthos winced when he thought about how mad d’Artagnan might be over his snooping around. “How long you lived here?”

“All my life.”

“You knew the de la Fere’s?”

“Oui,” Abelard frowned. “Everyone around here did.”

“Yours is one of two homes that are closest to the La Fere grounds. I struck out with one and was crossing my fingers you’d know somethin’.”

“Son, why don’t you just spit it out instead of dancing around the issue?”

Grinning, Porthos laughed heartily. “I like you.”

“Most people do,” Abelard quipped with a wink.

“I’m here checkin’ up on a few things that came to light recently for a very young friend of mine,” Porthos explained. “About a year past Gabrielle de la Fere’s birth of her son Thomas, Reynard de la Fere went away on an extensive huntin’ trip.”

“Oui, I remember how it seemed to be all my parents talked about.”

“What cha’ mean by that?”

“Eh bien,” Abelard scratched at his beard, “Gabrielle took up with someone during that time Reynard was away,” he snorted. “Didn’t keep a very good secret of it either.”

“Do you know who that gentleman was she was keeping company with?”

“Oui,” Abelard’s honest, hazel eyes pierced Porthos’s dark ones. “Gabrielle’s servants loved to gossip and since we lived so close they chatted up our own servants,” he crossed his arms, face turning serious. “The man was Gaston Jean Baptiste.”

Reeling from that shocking piece of news, Porthos was astonished. “Ya mean the Duke of Orleans was that man?”

“No doubt about it,” Abelard snorted. “The servants caught snatches of conversation between the pair and apparently the Duke was on his way back to Paris to see his brother King Louis.”

“Mon dieu! This is too much,” Porthos didn’t know what to do now that he was armed with this information. This was too explosive and had to be handled in just the right way. Maybe he should have let sleeping dogs lie. Porthos could hear Athos berating him in his head right about now. “My thanks, Abelard, for being so honest with me.”

“Not what you were expecting to hear?” Abelard's keen eyes didn't miss how his words affected the other man.

“Non, it wasn’t,” Porthos was thoroughly shaken and couldn’t hide it from Abelard.

“Now that you’ve found out,” Abelard said, “is this what you’ll tell your young friend?”

“I rightly don’t know what to do about all this,” Porthos growled.

“Gabrielle didn’t have much common sense, according to my maman,” Abelard chuckled. “Gabrielle must have thought everyone was blind, deaf or dumb that she surrounded herself with,” Abelard shook his head. “Most of us knew that when she went away it was to give birth to a bastard enfant.” Seeing the grimace that crossed the dark-skinned man’s face, Abelard knew he struck a nerve there. “The boy, your friend,” Abelard acknowledged with a nod, “is of royal blood.”

“Apparently so,” Porthos wiped the sweat that gathered on his forehead with a swipe of his hand. “And I feel like this ill’ open up a whole can of worms soon.”

“Good luck with whatever you decide to do with the knowledge you have gained, Porthos.”

“You’ve been right accomodatin’ and I thank you again, Abelard.”

“Before you go, would you like to refresh yourself or at least your horse?"

“I'll accept waterin' my horse but that would be all cause I better be leavin’ right away.” So Porthos followed Abelard to where the horse trough was and let Roulette drink his fill. Mounting, Porthos nodded at Abelard. "I wish you well, monsieur."

“Safe travels, mon ami,” Abelard waved goodbye and headed back to his stables.

++++

*Next day, Musketeer garrison*

“Porthos!” Aramis cried out. “Where the deuce have you been? We’ve all been terribly worried back here.” Aramis frowned in concern as he watched Porthos slowly walk towards him, having settled Roulette in his stall.

“Had ta get some answers to questions that d’Artagnan didn’t want to know,” Porthos’s gruff voice faded away the closer he drew to Aramis’s side.

Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Aramis gazed at Porthos shaking his head fondly. “I have a feeling you bit off more than you can chew, eh, mon ami?”

“Oui, and I wish I hadn’t gone and done what I did cause now I don’t know what to do with what I discovered.”

Hands on his hips, Aramis glanced at Porthos with something akin to fear on his face. “How bad?”

“Depends on who ya talk to I guess.” Looking around the courtyard, Porthos noticed some of his fellow brothers training. “Where’s d’Artagnan?”

“With Athos and Treville going over our next mission. That’s where I was headed when I spotted you.”

“Aramis, tell me what ta do?” Porthos begged.

“Not knowing what it is *you* know... how can I,” Aramis huffed, holding out his hands helplessly.

Realizing he had to tell someone, Porthos took Aramis by the arm, dragging him back to the stables. “Found out that d’Artagnan’s father is none other than Gaston, Duke of Orleans.”

Turning white, Aramis stared in shock at his friend. “If this is a joke it’s in poor taste,” he snapped.

“Why the blue blazes would I make somethin' like this up?” Porthos growled, unhappy that Aramis thought he was pulling his leg.

“Here I thought being a de la Fere was a step up for our youngest,” Aramis scrubbed both hands through his wavy hair, messing it up into a tangle. “D’Artagnan’s a French prince with a royal pedigree that is going to make our pup faint when you tell him.”

“Best I get up there then and give the lad and the others the news,” Porthos said, but his heart wasn’t really in it.

++++

*Captain Treville’s office*

“Did you enjoy your trip,” d’Artagnan pouted, “without us?”

“Ah, whelp,” Porthos sighed. “I don’t know if you’ll thank me for what I’m going to tell ya or kick me in the ass for going against your wishes.”

“Porthos,” Athos drawled, watching his friend closely. “What did you do?”

So Porthos explained about his trip and his reasons behind it.

“But I told you it didn’t matter to me,” d’Artagnan complained loudly.

“You had a chance of finding out who your father was,” Porthos pointed out. “I only wish I could say the same.”

“I’m sorry,” d’Artagnan’s eyes filled with compassion for his close friend, knowing the man's history.

“Porthos?” Treville folded his arms and fixed a sharp gaze on his soldier, which he knew would make Porthos feel uncomfortable. “I can tell that whatever you found out isn’t sitting well with you and that is why I didn’t go out of my way to question Gabrielle about it,” he huffed in annoyance.

"His heart was in the right place, sir," Aramis remarked, coming to his friend's defense, weak though it was. All it earned him was the look most Musketeers dreaded aimed their way.

Clearing his throat, Porthos turned to Athos. “After talking with your closest neighbor I found out who your mother fooled around with.”

“Eloquently put,” Aramis noted with a quirk of his lips.

Rolling his eyes, Porthos saw Athos frowning as his friend looked in concern toward d’Artagnan. “Gabrielle was keeping company with none other than Gaston Jean Baptiste.” He heard Treville’s gasp and Athos’s muttered oath.

“The Duke of Orleans?” d’Artagnan laughed. “Good one, Porthos.”

“I ain’t jokin’, lad,” Porthos harsh voice filled the room. 

Seeing how serious Porthos looked, d’Artagnan’s heart skipped a beat. “You’re saying I’m a royal bastard,” he seemed horrified at that prospect and gazed fearfully at Athos.

“You should have left it alone, Porthos,” Athos shouted.

“The boy needed to know,” Porthos insisted.

“Now that d’Artagnan does, what do we do about it?” Aramis asked.

“Mon dieu!” d’Artagnan slapped his forehead. “King Louis is my uncle!”

“Oui,” Treville sighed. “Along with your deceased grandfather being King Henry IV and God forbid that wife of his ever finds out!” he spat.

Looking between Treville and Athos for answers, d’Artagnan’s chin jutted out. “What?”

“Marie de Medici is your grandmother,” Athos announced dryly, knowing the youngster should remember what a bitch that woman could be.

Aramis made the sign of the cross at Athos's words. “I’ll give the Duke kudos though for the many intrigues he found himself in,” he chuckled with soft laughter. “At one point he conspired against the government lead by Marie de Medici and Richelieu.”

“A man after my own heart,” Athos said wryly, his grim tone catching d’Artagnan’s attention.

“I don’t want to tell King Louis about this,” d’Artagnan announced, his voice trembling.

“Are you certain, son?” Treville couldn’t be sure what the right path should be.

“I’m happy the way everything is right now.” Walking over to Porthos, d’Artagnan hugged the huge Musketeer. “My thanks for thinking of me, mon ami.”

“Just wanted you ta know who yer father was is all,” Porthos said gruffly. “Didn’t realize I’d shake you from a royal tree, pup.”

“Looks like d’Artagnan’s aristocratic airs come from both sides of the fence,” Aramis grinned as the others saw the humor in the situation and broke out laughing.

“I’m delighted to claim the humble title of a de la Fere,” d’Artagnan grinned cheekily at Athos, the latter hugged him tightly to his side.

“But, Porthos,” d’Artagnan shot the man a calculating stare, “next time something like this happens... look the other way.”

The End


End file.
